The Boy who Became the Man
by Zerestor
Summary: Exploring Severus Snape's character through the people who have known him. How the boy they knew became the man they now see. So far Molly, Arthur, Albus, Minerva, Sirius, Poppy and Remus makes a few appearances.
1. Molly's Kitchen Chair

**Molly's Kitchen Chair**

'No one knows this but Severus has been to the Burrow before.' Molly's voice was soft.

'Years ago, when he was still just a lad. He was a scrawny young thing then, with that long black hair of his, that beaky nose.'

A faint smile touched her lips as she described him, her eyes distant.

'I found him in Ottery St Catchpole, wandering around near the mill pond. Goodness knows what he was doing there, but he was all dressed up in his robes and people had been talking in the village shop. The village is mainly muggle you see. I brought him back here and sat him at the kitchen table, made him tea. Then he asked if he could use the bathroom and when he stood up.....'

She paused here and took a shaky breath and rubbed her hand across her eyes before continuing.

'When he stood up there was blood on the chair, smeared across the seat. I followed him up then. Upstairs to the bathroom to help, to call through the door.....but he just wouldn't let me in, wouldn't let me _help _him. He was in there so long but then Arthur came home and I don't know what he said or did but Severus let him in.'

She paused and swiped another hand across her eyes. And when she spoke again, her voice did tremble and finally she raised her eyes to meet Remus's.

'Oh Remus and he was badly hurt, so badly hurt. Severus, that _boy_ with that beautiful pale skin and those beautiful long fingers that you just _knew_ could create magic.'

Remus swallowed dryly. 'What had happened?' He asked.

Molly sighed 'I don't really know Remus. Arthur wouldn't tell me exactly. And that's as it should be. But I've never seen Arthur so shaken except for that time Charlie fell out of the oak in the backyard all the way from the top. But I think....no I know it was bad, really awful. And I kept thinking that if he'd been so badly hurt wouldn't he prefer me to Arthur. Me a mother? A _woman_. But then I think he just felt _safe_ around Arthur. And Arthur wouldn't fuss, he'd just sort, just do what was needed.'

She fell silent and Remus stayed quiet. Running the story over in his mind, picturing Severus as a child, as a young man.

Then Molly spoke again, her voice firm.

'You know. Arthur always trusted Severus. Always.'

'He's a good man.' Said Remus.

'Severus or Arthur?' Asked Molly wryly.

'Both I think.' Said Remus with a faint smile.

Molly smiled back, and took a sip of her cooling tea.

'Severus is a good man.' She said. 'But whenever I look at that man, I just see that pale skinned boy and blood. Blood smeared across my kitchen chair.'


	2. Arthur's Toaster: Part One

**Arthur's Toaster: Part 1**

Arthur awoke to the smell of toast. Hot buttery toast. His mouth was already watering before his brain had kick-started into 'awake' mode.

Muddling his way, as usual through his morning routine, he eventually followed his nose downstairs to the ground floor of the house. Arthur actually did not know precisely where he was at the moment. Another Order meeting house and he wasn't the secret keeper, not for this house. He was brought here last night by the house's only secret keeper.

Pushing the kitchen door open with one hand whilst stifling a yawn with the other the final vestiges of sleep were abruptly pushed out of Arthur's brain, apparently via his eye sockets, as a sudden loud popping springing sound rung out across the room.

Shaking his head his eyes swung to the source of the sound where he saw a most decidedly odd and most deliciously muggle looking device sitting on the sideboard next to the stove. Shiny and metallic looking with glorious black buttons, just begging to be pushed on one end of it, the 'device' had two perfectly browned pieces of toast sticking out of it. Licking his lips in anticipation of touching the machine or perhaps of eating its bread-based 'bounty' or indeed both Arthur was about to advance on the tool. Suddenly a voice spoke out.

'Toast?'

Arthur whipped his head round and jumped. Sitting at the kitchen table, a triangle shaped piece of toast between left forefinger and thumb, one corner already bitten off sat Severus Snape. The house's only secret keeper.

Severus raised one eyebrow.

'Arthur' He said.

Arthur shook his head again and pressed a hand against his chest. Be still my rampaging heart!

'Oh Severus. I didn't see you there.' He said weakly. 'I was just....ummm...distracted.' He gestured vaguely at the shiny muggle _device_.

Severus just inclined his head slightly before taking another bite out of his toast. He chewed and swallowed watching Arthur turn a slight Weasley shade of red as he did so.

'Toast.' He said again. 'You can have those slices of toast. If you like.'

He stood as he spoke. Delicately placing his half eaten piece of toast on the plate in front of him he moved across the kitchen to a cupboard where he withdrew a blue and white patterned china plate.

'Yes. Toast would be nice.' Said Arthur distractedly as he wracked his brain's the machine's name.

A device that made toast. A device than browns your bread. A toast-maker? A toast-creator? No it probably had some weird muggle name that bore no relevance to its actual use. Like Sellotape or Hoovers or DVD Players.

Severus meanwhile was standing in front of the muggle toast making implement. He glanced back at Arthur and breathed out a small sigh. After a brief pause he carefully placed the plate he had fetched on the counter, before plucking the toast from the device. He turned and leant back towards the table, and tossed both slices onto his own plate. Blinking at the movement Arthur frowned slightly.

'Cold.' Severus offered as way of explanation. Arthur frowned further. Severus rolled his eyes slightly. 'Sit down Arthur.' He said. 'Have some tea and I'll make you some more hot toast with the _toaster_.'

'Toaster!' Arthur repeated his facing lighting up. 'Toaster!'

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	3. Arthur's Toaster: Part Two

**Arthur's Toaster: Part 2**

'And I've never tasted such good toast before in my life!' Declared Arthur a wistful look on his face. 'Apart from your Mother's that is.' He hastily amended.

Charlie rolled his eyes. 'Dad.' He said. He dragged the word out into a whine that he knew both his parents hated to hear. He was sitting slumped at the kitchen table in the Burrow, chin cupped in his hand, trying to listen to his Dad telling a story about Snape. _Snape! Of all people_, thought Charlie. 'Dad.' He said again, turning the whine up just a notch.

Nothing.

Arthur carried on regardless. 'It was like watching an artist at work. Those fingers, operating the knobs just so, adjusting the thermometer-state just so. So it pops out just right........'

Charlie's eyes widened and he spoke again louder, before his Father could continue any further with his description of Snape's muggle toaster operating abilities.

'Dad!'

Arthur still had a slightly dreamy look on his face. 'I've still got that toaster. Maybe one day Severus will........'

'DAD!' Yelled Charlie in alarm.

Arthur started and turned wide eyes back to his second eldest. 'Yes Charlie?' He said.

'Ho w exactly is this meant to help me with my Potions Essay?' Said Charlie more than a little exasperated. 'My Potions Essay on the.....', he glanced down and read off his parchment, '.......The brewing and uses of the Freezing Balm.'

'Well......ermmm'. Arthur coughed and cleared his throat. 'Well the thing is that........' His explanation didn't get very far as he was interrupted by his eldest, Bill.

'What I want to know.....' declared Bill tossing the book he had been reading or rather trying to read since his father began his walk down a Snape-themed memory lane, down onto the tabletop, '.....is how _Snape_......' At a sharp look from his Father he hastily amended, '....how _Professor_ Snape knew how to use a toaster.'

'Yeah!' Agreed Charlie, Potions Essay momentarily forgotten. 'I can't imagine he has one down in the dungeons.'

Bill smirked.

'Or going to....to...John Lewis to buy one!' Giggled Bill.

'Maybe he does have one.' Sniggered Charlie. 'But he doesn't use it; he just keeps it so he can polish the knobs!'

Bill snorted.

'It doesn't seem like a part of the Potions Mastery Course. Toasters 101!' Said Charlie and both boys roared with laughter.

Arthur sighed. 'I don't know who John Lewis is or what a Toasters 101 is and I don't know why you boys, my boys with all I've told you find it surprising that a Wizard should know anything about muggles. Muggleborns....' He began

'......are just as Wizard as any other Wizard.' Recited Charlie and Bill, both colouring slightly at reciting the words they both remember their Father first drilling into them when they both still at Muggle Primary school.

'We know that Dad.' Insisted Bill. 'It's just that it's Sn..._Professor _Snape.' He said as if that was all the explanation that was needed. Charlie began nodding vigorously only to stop suddenly at the look on his father's face. Arthur's face had gone that particular Weasley shade of red which meant he was angry. Very angry.

Perplexed at this sudden change in their Father's mood, Charlie and Bill traded slightly alarmed looks.

'Look.....Dad.....' Began Bill carefully, only to be interrupted by his Father.

'No Bill!' Snapped Arthur.

Arthur took a deep steadying breath and looked first Charlie and then Bill in the eye. When he spoke it was quiet but with an edge to its tone that both Bill and Charlie recognised after several years of youthful 'high jinx'.

'Severus Snape is a good man. And I won't hear you boys say anything otherwise. You may not like your potions classes, you may not like your potions professor but I will not, in this house allow that _boy_ to be a source of ridicule, and you will not in my house insinuate that that _boy_ is anything beneath this family.'

Arthur was using _that_ tone of voice and had spoken the rarely heard and therefore immensely powerful 'in my house' line. The boys exchanged nervous glances again.

'Sorry Dad.' Said Charlie softly.

'Yeah Dad.' Agreed Bill. 'We were just mouthing off. We don't know Professor Snape. '

'And just you remember that boys. You don't know him.' Said Arthur standing up. 'Do your homework Charlie.' He finished softly as he moved towards the door.

'Yes Dad' replied Charlie turning his eyes back to his parchment as Bill bent his head back to his book and as a result neither saw the sad glance that Arthur threw at the broken kitchen chair. The chair that sat unused in the corner of the kitchen, the chair that was broken but no one had thrown out or fixed. The chair that sat next to Arthur's unused toaster.


	4. Albus's Socks

**Albus's Socks**

Albus tried to recall his first memory of Severus Snape. And frowned.

Surely there must be some event, some occasion, something outstanding when he first recognised the boy. Did he remember the boy's sorting? No. Did he remember seeing his name on the list of new students? No. Did he remember him from period, in what would have been Severus's first term at Hogwarts when Albus had taken over first and second year potions as Slughorn had come down with flu? Surely he had a memory of teaching Severus potions? But no.

Like so many of his Hogwarts students Severus just gradually fades into existence in Albus's mind. A gradual awareness of presence, until a face and a name are stored away for real memories to be layered around.

So he can't remember his first meeting or even seeing Severus.....but ah yes he remembers now. He remembers his first real memory of Severus. A memory he could pensive.

Severus used to take things.

He remembers an angry Slytherin Prefect dragging Snape into his office.

He remembers the Snape boy, as he still then was, to Albus standing sullen and silent in front of his desk. His first visit, but he had no eyes for the moving portraits, the shiny trinkets, the puttering instruments or the jars of tempting sweets resting on a shelf. No temptation for this boy. No he had only eyes for the pile of junk, tipped out of a sack and now lying on the Persian rug in front of Albus's desk. A forlorn pile, amongst the rubble Albus can see; A tattered quidditch jumper, a belt with a broken buckle, a snapped quill with a bent nib, a chipped potions bottle sans stopper, and pieces and pieces of parchments; endless scrimps and scraps of parchment; torn off corners, half a crossed out essay, a shopping list, a love note passed during class, a copy of the Daily Prophet crossword – half done.

And he remembers Prefect Avery stuttering to explain, 'I know that they're not worth much. That they were being thrown out Sir but they hadn't been thrown out yet. And there was so much of it......I thought..........'

Holding up a calming hand to the boy.

'That's fine.......Albus.'

Yes Albus Avery, named for the Headmaster in a fit of peak during the months following Gwindwald's defeat. Death Eater Avery, but then just an earnest and good prefect.

'That's fine. Albus. You can go.'

Then a look at the small boy in front of him and a needless gesture at the spoils of his thievery.

'What were you going to do with these things Severus?'

And the boy just sighed, a hot, heavy sigh.

'Why do you need these things Severus? All these things?'

And the boy opened and closed his mouth, puffing out bursts of air, half formed sentences on his tongue never released.

Habit. Habit. Habit.

Habit thought Albus.

He's had these children before, of course, at Hogwarts. Surrounded by so much. Wanting it all. Eyes confused by the choice, their own twisted version of what is valuable develops.

On the streets, in their homes a worn out jumper is still warm, a half serviceable belt has many uses, a half-knut broken quill that can be bent back to use, a potions bottle that can be stopped with a wad of paper transfigured to cork, and paper that can be used to start a fire, practice your letters or perhaps something to read when you're bored or alone. But in Hogwarts where no one goes cold, no one goes hungry and parchment is given to those that need it, in a box left quietly on your bed when you arrive along with second hand books, fresh potion ingredients, new quills and everything else your parents couldn't, wouldn't or didn't provide. In Hogwarts where everything is provided and everything is warm and safe, most of the time these things are not needed.

Harry should never have worried so. Hagrid or no Hagrid he would have had everything he needed when he got to Hogwarts. Unfortunately no one provided what he needed before he got there. Like Severus. Oh just like Severus.

Now trapped in this building of such decadence filled with people who don't question where it all comes from, where even the endless Weasleys of this world know that they don't need to worry too much. These forgotten, lost children panic and pick and steal and take and take, again and again. Taking that which they would probably have been given if they had asked. And who never quite manage to take what they really need. Help with your homework as your Mother didn't teach you all your letters or how to hold a quill properly as you mainly had biros at home (nicked from the corner shop), plasters or salve from the nurse when you've bruised a knee or an elbow or when a splinter embedded in your palm from that time in potions where you slid a hand over a rough desk edge and it snagged on a sharp piece of word, has made it hard to hold a quill, difficult to concentrate in class and which after a week has brought you down with a fever as it has festered and the desk was covered in spilt calming draft and you're allergic apparently. What to do when boys twice your size tell you your skin is pretty, who to ask when the house elves take your only set of robes and you panic all weekend that you'll have nothing to wear come Monday and they haven't taken anyone else's robes, they've all still got a set, hanging up in their wardrobes – you checked, but then you didn't realise that they all had two sets of robes.

Albus had learnt that neglected children in equal amounts both believed and ignored rules. The later being rules set by those unreliable, distant, _tall_ adults. The former the rules set by mean children and, yes, adults as soon as they realise who you are, what you are and what'll you'll believe.

You don't have to visit the school nurse even when she asks you to because you don't want her to see your back, your arm, your ribs depending on the week, depending on the bully, depending on when term just started. You do need to warm toilet seats for older boys to gain permission to use the house common room. You can talk to the houseelves however you want – they're not even human, and you've been called worst before. You can't disobey a prefect even when what they ask of you hurts because they keep their own points system and the rewards are food, your bed covers, your potions book not in the fire.

Albus didn't know what to do with children or adults who didn't tell him what was wrong. That's where he went wrong with Harry, for a while. It's why he never worried about Ginny Weasley even when she was so pale all that year. He even wondered that if he had learned to listen even when people weren't talking that perhaps Lucius Malfoy might have been a different man. Dear God he'd taught Lucuis's Father. And cowardly Albus always hoped that he never found out what Lucius's school holidays were like.

And then Severus. His Severus.

'And what exactly were you planning to do with these?' And Albus held up a pair of canary yellow socks he had lifted out from under the mangled cover of a book on household charms.

And the boy's head raised, his chin tilted up towards Albus as if to invite a blow. _I dare you Headmaster – take your best shot_.

'Exactly what you planned to do with them. _Sir._'

And there's a tugging up of one corner of his mouth and a glint in those dark brown eyes. Eyes that girls and boys surely must have talked about. Severus in his final year skinny, pale, hooked nose, greasy hair, unsociable but tall, perfect complexion, long agile hands, talented, mysterious and with _black_ eyes.

That look in those eyes made Albus think _good lad_.

And Albus laughs. He has hung onto that memory through the later shouts, the arguments, the anger, the rage, the betrayal, the repent, the sullen meetings and the worry. The boy who _joked _with the man who could send him home.

Till 20 more years have passed and does what he has never done before, to any Professor or colleague at his school. Break through personal wards and rifle through a drawer to find a ball of yellow hidden at the back. It's only fair to return the favour.

Touch, smile and remember.

He can take them back to his office and place them on his desk, and next meeting Severus will ask him, 'What are you planning to do with those Albus?' And he'll be so clever in the way he asks, with the distain in his voice so clear that Albus will think that maybe he has forgotten, but a tug of his lips will make Albus realise he hasn't. And, not for the first time, Albus will give into Severus's demands.

Well, what's an extra potion ingredient or two for the brave little boy that stole the Headmaster's socks?

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_This is because I've always pictured Severus as such a sad, alone young boy. But also as an angry and determined one._


	5. Sirius's Photo

**Sirius's Photo**

'I do have some nice memories of Snape.' Began Sirius. He glanced up at Remus as he spoke and quickly pulled a face at the expression Remus wore.

'I didn't start hating him right from the start. I didn't go to Hogwarts, see him and just go over and pick a fight.' Sirius's voice was sulky.

'Sorry if I find it hard to believe you Sirius......but I remember you mouthing off about Severus during the welcome feast.' Remus was careful to place emphasis on his use of Severus's first name.

Sirius scowled and looked down at the tabletop, gripping his cup of tea tightly between his hands. Remus briefly mused about how so many of these conversations seemed to take place over tea that he sometimes felt like his brain was swimming in the liquid.

'I met him on the train.' Sirius began abruptly. Then he stopped. Remus watched as Sirius seemed to gather himself together. He heaved a big sigh before lifting his head and meeting Remus's gaze full on. Bright blue eyes piercing warm amber ones. Remus suppressed a shiver.

'The first people I spoke to on the train. Snape and.....' Sirius took a big breath. 'Snape and Lily. They were the first people I spoke to. The first children I spoke to.'

And Remus remembered the little that he knew about Sirius's childhood. A childhood spent in a series of large empty houses. The only contact with other children being his younger brother, a brother favoured by his parents, and occasional visits from pureblooded cousins such as Lucius Malfoy and Naccissa Black, pureblooded children that had quickly learnt not to act like children and to look down their noses at Sirius Black. So, yes Remus knew what it might mean for Sirius to talk about the first children he spoke to on the Hogwarts Express.

' Lily and Severus were friends. Best friends.' Said Sirius and Remus was surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. So fervently had Sirius always denied Lily's relationship with Severus. Even when James had married her and knew a little more of the truth of Lily's life before Hogwarts. Even when Sirius knew that Lily and James had considered inviting Severus to the wedding and then later to Harry's christening. He still wouldn't listen. The one time, the one thing where Sirius wouldn't listen to James was Severus Snape.

'Who did you sit with on the train?' Sirius suddenly asked. Remus didn't answer and Sirius suddenly lurched across the table and grabbed Remus's left hand in his right. Remus nearly pulled his hand back in shock. It had been so long since Sirius had touched him. Such a rare event since Azkaban.

Sirius's hand felt warm and rough and _good_.

'Who did you sit with on the train?' Sirius demanded. Remus swallowed drily.

'Peter.' He choked out. 'I sat with Peter.'

Sirius nodded solemnly. 'You sat with a traitor. I sat with Severus Snape.'

The conversation ended. Three weeks later Sirius shoves a photo under Remus's nose. A black and white photo, almost static. A platform, the Hogwarts Express in the background. In the foreground a young, small Lily Evans with parents and an equally small, and almost pretty looking Petunia Evans. There is little movement; Lily impatiently tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear; Petunia bites her lip and her eyes dart from side to side; Mr Evans's hand squeezes his wife's shoulder and Mrs Evans's smile broadens. Remus idly wonders who took the photo, and then in the background, off to the left he sees two small boys. Sirius Black and Severus Snape.

'They look alike don't they?' Sirius says gruffly. Remus wordlessly nods.

'Lily gave me the photo. I used to remember, in there that people used to take photos of things. Of each other. Hogwarts lake. Babies, shops and sunsets. I used to wish I had one photo just to look at. So I wouldn't forget what things, what people looked like. What people were like.'

Remus winced as Sirius started to slip back into the speech pattern he had adopted after he first escaped Azkaban. Short and clipped. Barking out lists of words. Barely formed sentences.

'Same height. Same robes. No house crests yet. Black hair. Mine messy. His straight. Pale skin. Solemn. Scared. Very scared.'

He snapped out of it quickly. Remus was grateful.

'It's a long trip to Hogwarts. All the way from London to Scotland. With all our magic you think it would be easy to make it quicker?' Sirius scratched his stubble festooned chin and grinned. 'But yes, I know all those _children_, safety. I know it isn't possible. I never was very good at magical theory.'

'You and the rest of the wizarding world.' Snorted Remus. 'It's magic, it works. Why ask _why?_'

Sirius looked back down at the photograph, fingers hovering over first Lily and then over himself and then Severus.

'He sat with Lily. They were friends and she was so beautiful and loud and nice. I thought she wouldn't be friends with anyone bad, anyone nasty. She was muggleborn, he was half-blood. '

'His was the first name that I knew at Hogwarts, well except for Cissy and Lucuis. But he was the first person I told my name to. He didn't seem shocked at the name Black or when I said I wanted to be as unlike a Black as possible. '

'But then later he's in Slytherin. I told that hat I wanted to be in Gyffindor and it listened. He must have told it he wanted to be in the snake pit.' Sirius practically hissed out the last part. If the subject wasn't so serious and the man in front of him wasn't so broken, Remus might have found Sirius's childish words comical.

'Oh Sirius.' Remus sighed. ' The name Black didn't mean anything to Severus. He didn't know that not wanting to be like a Black meant not being in Slytherin. He's an only child with a muggle father and few, if any wizard relatives if I remember rightly. The hat probably put him where it wanted to put him as it did with you. You just wanted to be where you were put.'

Then thinking back on what Albus had told him Remus added. 'He just wanted a home. Somewhere warm, with food and friends. Like you Sirius.'

Sirius's face took on a slightly pensive look. Remus held his breath.

Sirius's face grimaced, twisted and pouted.

And finally he whispered. 'I still hate him.'

Remus sighed.

Later when Sirius got drunk as he often did these days after talking about the past. He would blurt out how he used to like boys at Hogwarts as well as girls. And Remus would bite his tongue and pretend he didn't already know and pretend that he hadn't noticed that he wasn't the only Gryffindor boy who, in their 7th year had suddenly started sneaking glances at Severus Snape's pale elegant hands, suddenly found themselves wondering about Severus Snape's black eyes and who had occasionally wondered what Severus Snape would look like with washed hair and a smile.

Instead Remus hooked Sirius's arm over his shoulders and slung an arm around Sirius's skinny waist and hauled him up the stairs to bed. Instead of telling Sirius that he hadn't been alone at school Remus pushed him back onto the bed and shushed his mumbled apologies. Instead of telling Sirius that he was proud that he had shown him the photo and told him about being friends with Severus, if only for a train journey Remus pulled the blankets higher, tucked in an errant limb, pushed back a lock of tangled black hair and stared at a black and white photo and the faces of two scared little boys.

Remus wished he could keep Sirius's photo.

_Written because I love Sirius very much, but I also find him endlessly exasperating. _


	6. Minerva's Bookcase

**Minerva's Bookcase**

Minerva didn't really like Severus Tobias Snape.

Minerva liked rambunctious, feisty young boys. She liked boys who argued back during detentions. She liked boys whose pranks and acts of mischief she could secretly admire for the magical strengths that they revealed. This was why she had a soft spot for both James Potter and Sirius Black and, later the infamous Weasley twins. It was why she was good at controlling a house of Gyffindors.

However it was also the reason why she didn't really know how to deal with Percy Weasley's incessant worrying during his final year as a prefect or with Ginny Weasley's chronic, sickly pale shyness during her first year at Hogwarts.

And it was definitely the reason why Severus Tobias Snape irritated her. As a student he always seemed to be watching and waiting. He was quiet in her classes. He spoke only when necessary and never smiled.

Never speaking, never smiling but, somehow constantly getting himself into trouble, stoically carrying out his detentions with her in silence. He never came up with elaborate excuses for his behaviour ala James and Sirius or incredible reasons as to why he was simply unable to carry out the detention task assigned to him ala Fred and George. Severus never fought back, except for that incident in his fifth year when James Potter saved his life. Begrudgingly she could admit that it was James and Sirius that got him into that particular situation. She remembered how he had screamed and ranted in Albus's office, but only for a while, he stopped when he saw that histrionics would get him nowhere. She had almost resented his silence at that point; shouting and _rage_ from a teenage boy she could deal with, sullen silence with a face on the verge tears she had no words for.

Simply put, Severus Tobias Snape made her uncomfortable. He made her skin crawl. And now he was back at Hogwarts. Teaching.

She had little qualms with his status as a teacher. She trusted Albus implicitly and even she remembered the boy's skills during his years at Hogwarts. But she avoided the man as much as possible. They lived at opposite ends of the castle, she taught on the third floor, he taught in the basement, they even sat at opposite ends of the head table at meal times. So she was more than a little irriated when two weeks before the start of term one summer holiday she literally bumped into him.

It was only a tiny bump, neither of them had been looking where they were going but it had been enough to send Severus sprawling to the floor.

Minerva had been busy dragging an old oak bookcase through the doorway of a little used storeroom in one of the lower corrdiros. Slightly to her own chagrin her last bookcase had given out over the number of transfigurations she had subjected it to over the years. Forced to hold an elaborate series of transformations over the years, its core magic had rebelled and the bookcase had collapsed. Sifting through an old store room she had found the perfect replacement. It was a lovely bookcase and would need only a little work to get it right to her tastes and so she found herself being extra caution and moving it by hand out the doorway. She didn't dare levitate it or use a featherweight charm until she got it clear of the cramp storeroom into the wide high ceiled corridor. Her charms had always been a little erratic. They were generally good, she was a Hogwarts Professor after all but just sometime, only sometimes her judgement could be off. And she didn't want to risk this bookcase. An over zealous feather light or levitation charm and she would find it smashed into the ceiling or floating out the window.

She was hot and sweaty and just trying to heave the bookcase over the ridge of the doorframe, when something, that turned out to be Severus has slammed into her side a with a decidedly human 'Ompf.'

Minerva let out a startled 'Oh' of surprise as she saw Severus on his backside on the stone floor, a pained expression on his face. She eyed his trim figure as he unfolded himself from the corridor floor and stood up with a whince.

'Professor McGonagall.' He said inclining his head. 'My apologies.'

Oh yes, that was another thing that irritated Minerva; Severus's insistence on using a kind of antiquated way of speaking. As if he was born 50 years before all the other inhabitants of the castle. A feat Albus could pull off, having being born at least 50 years before all the other inhabitants of the castle, but with Severus it just reeked of outdated sentimentality and a misguided attempt at superiority.

Minerva sniffed and replied. 'Severus. _My apologies.'_

He gave a curt nod but didn't meet her gaze. She watched as he nervously brushed his hands down the front of his trousers and then, without another word, turned smartly about on his heels and started to walk briskly down the corridor, back the way he had come from.

Minerva was hot, dusty and itchy from her physical exertions and more than ready for a little male assistance with her bookcase, even if that assistance had to come from Severus Tobias Snape. She was out of sorts from her abrupt encounter with the young potions master and she felt a rage of indignation begin to bubble up in her chest and before she knew it she was the professor and he was, once again her student.

'Severus Tobias Snape!' She exclaimed loudly and watched as, to her secret delight he froze mid stride.

'Get back here young man.' She said sternly. And watched as he slowly turned around on the spot and met her gaze. Twin spots of colour were high up on his cheeks and he was clenching and unclenching his hands into fists at his sides.

Minerva then subjected Severus to one of her best rants about politeness, responsibility and offering assistance. Spurred on by the fact that Severus just stood there staring at her, red faced and clenching and unclenching those fists, just like when he was a student. When she had finished, he quietly and rigidly helped lift the bookcase into the corridor. He then levitated it, without a word and floated it down the corridor and up two flights of stairs to Minerva's quarters under her watchful eye. She later would wonder that he knew where her rooms were without direction, she wouldn't have a clue where his were.

After levitating the bookcase over the threshold into the hallway of her rooms he had turned and fled. Minerva had watched him stride around a corner and shook her head. She was about to retreat into her rooms for some much needed bookcase rearrangement therapy when she had suddenly realised that she had left her cloak back in the storeroom. Normally she would have left it but it was one of her favourites, a gift from Albus when she'd become Head of Gryffindor. So she had, without much further ado set off back down the corridor, following on the heels Severus. As she rounded the corner she stopped in her tracks. There was Severus standing about 10 foot down the corridor. He was leaning against the wall, his right hip and shoulder pressed against the stone, and his right hand raised up above his head bracing himself against the wall. Confused she watched as he reached back round with his left hand and pressed his fingertips to the seat of his trousers. He gingerly lifted the hand to his face, she saw his fingers temble. She eyed the back of his trousers but the material was dark and she couldn't see anything unusual. She thought she saw something on his fingertips but she was too far away to be certain. Then Severus was pushing himself off the wall and hurrying back down the corridor.

For some reason she found herself calling out, 'Severus.' His step faltered slightly, she thought but he didn't stop and was soon down the corridor and through a door. She had thoughtfully made her way back to the storeroom. It was as she was swinging the tartan cloak around her shoulders that she made her decision and made her way to speak to Albus.

Severus wasn't at the midday or evening meals that day, neither was Poppy. The next day he looked a little less pale, she thought. Poppy had stopped her as she was leaving the Great Hall at breakfast time. Minerva listened incredulously as Poppy, one hand tightly gripping Minerva's sleeve had thanked her for 'doing right by the lad.' Minverva was slightly agog as Poppy walked away, she had only been reporting her suspicions to Albus. Surely Severus could find his own way to the infirmary. Avoiding all thoughts of black trousers and bloody finger tips Minerva quelled her guilt with something that had sustained her through seven years of Severus Snape, Sirius Black and James Potter in the same castle, in the same lessons; Whatever had happened to that boy, her lions would never have got into whatever kind of trouble that little snake Severus Snape had gotten himself into.

Now, she had a bookcase to rearrange.

_Not sure about this one. A bit odd. Not quite sure it came out how I wanted it to. Let me know what you think! Reviews always appreciated! zx_


	7. Poppy's Cough Elixir

**Poppy's Cough Elixir**

_Now._

'Severus was the end of my brief foray into the world of potions making. ' Poppy said.

Remus shifted in his seat, preparing himself for another story. What would it be this time? A story of illness? Neglect? Torture? Betrayal? Poppy continued.

'Oh yes you need good potions skills to be a medi-wizard. You need to be very good. Advanced NEWT level really. I was good but I was no Potions Master.' Poppy shook her head and smiled.

'But I liked to dream about experimenting, about tinkering with my potions. And one year I had a rotten cough; kept me awake at night and I was sick of taking my cough elixir. Foul tasting stuff. I tried peppermint, oranges, cinnamon, anything I could think of to hide the bitter taste. Eventually I discovered that chocolate could change the taste without altering the potency of the elixir. It was a summer cold, so I stocked up on my new chocolate cough elixir for the autumn term.'

_Then._

'Stupid boy.' Huffed Poppy under her breath, as she placed a hand against the boy's forehead. 'You're still burning up!'

'Did you even take the potion?' She asked the boy. Receiving no answer she sighed and pushed a potions vial into his hand. 'Drink.' She commanded. 'I'm watching this one going down your throat.' Poppy watched with mounting exasperation as the boy first raised the vial up to the light and stared at it as he gently swirled the contents. Then brought the vial to nose and sniffed delicately.

'You've added chocolate.' He said in a quiet voice. Immediately Poppy found her irritation softened. She looked down at the boy and said softly and carefully. 'Yes I have.' The boy nodded. 'And you let it stew longer........it smells......stronger.' He said quietly.

Still careful she said 'That's quite a nose you've got there.'

At this he looked up, eyes narrowed at the perceived insult against his most prominent facial feature.

Quickly she amended. 'Isn't cough elixir a third year potion?' Poppy asked. No smile but she did get a little shrug.

'I know a future Potions Master when I see one.' She said knowingly. At this he glanced up eyes wide and she pressed home her advantage.

'Drink. _Now.'_ Poppy commanded and watched as he brought the vial to his lips and swallowed it down in two gulps. Satisfied that she'd seen the contents travel down his throat she reached out and took the empty vial back before shoeing him out of the infirmary and down to the Great Hall for lunch.

Two weeks later he's back in the infirmary because he's made himself physically sick with chocolate. Actually ill. Almost dangerously ill. Poppy had almost panicked. He had won the chocolate fare and square in a common room game. Boxes and boxes of chocolate. And the lad had panicked and in a dusty disused classroom, he had shoved chocolate frog, after chocolate frog after chocolate frog into his mouth. Past the point of satisfaction. Past the point of full. Past sick and past pain. A bizarre self-torture game of force-feeding. He was found slumped in a corridor with chocolate smeared hands and face, and a distended stomach. Chocolate coloured vomit was found in the classroom, in puddles down the corridor, and down his robes. Poppy had, at first thought he had been the victim of a vicious prank or perhaps of an experimental new chocolate invention forced on him by an overzealous NEWT potions student. But neiether proved to be the case. Severus just didn't want anyone else to take what was his. It was all his and no one else was going to have it, take it or steal it. And he was right no one else did. He had it all.

With the amount of chocolate he had eaten Poppy had just assumed that it was alone the over indulgence that had caused the vomiting.

Six months later, one lunchtime there was chocolate cake for pudding in the Great Hall. Severus made it ten minutes through Charms before he vomited over the pillow he was trying to levitate.

Severus was allergic to chocolate.

'Imagine never knowing you were allergic to chocolate until you were 12.' Poppy had said to anyone who would listen.

She had been _forcing_ that chocolate cough elixir onto him for weeks. For weeks trying to get rid of that blasted cough he'd had.

And still he'd kept taking the medicine, day after day. And still he had eaten all that chocolate, still he had taken the chocolate cake in the hall.

'He must have known it was the chocolate making him sick. Severus would have worked it out.' Poppy had said, to anyone who would listen

Poppy had to make him promise. She had actually made him say the words out loud that he promised that he would not eat chocolate again.

He didn't break his promise until he had been Potions Professor for 5 years and Harry Potter had started at Hogwarts and there had been chocolate pudding for dessert at the welcome feast alongside treacle tart and all the other mouth-watering treats that the house elves could muster up. She had watched with sick fascination as he stoically placed spoonful after spoonful of pudding into his mouth. Mechanically swallowing each mouthful down. And Poppy didn't say anything or even give him one of her patented looks that she was known and feared for because by that point Severus scared her. But she still sent down a calming draft and stomach settling remedy to his quarters later that night with a note to say she was running low on stocks of both.

She received the empty vials back the following morning, clean and dry with Severus's scrawny scrawl on the back of her note.

'I will not be requiring any more calming drafts or stomach settling remedies from you.'

She could hear the scorn and sneer in his writing. And she didn't know if it was a rejection of her help or a bizarre promise to not eat chocolate again. 'He was an odd child and an even stranger adult.' Poppy had told anyone who would listen.

One day, a few months later, it was close to Christmas; she remembered the snow on the ledge of the window in the infirmary's office. Severus had been delivering fresh potions or perhaps checking stocks levels or looking at the records of his little snakes and he had stopped in front of her desk. Poppy was updating her inventory lists and had looked up at him. He was stood at an odd angle, body facing her but with his shoulders and face tilted away, so she couldn't see his expression.

'The chocolate pudding didn't make me sick.' He said quietly. 'I made myself sick, before it could. I panicked.'

'Oh.' Was all she had said. And then he was gone.

Severus kept his promises. She presumed.

Even in Harry's time. Poppy could never give her chocolate cough elixir to a student. It was one of the few potions that could be sweetened without jeopardising its effects, but only with chocolate. Cough elixir without the chocolate was foul tasting but she couldn't see chocolate as a treat after little Severus Snape. Poppy's chocolate cough elixir lasted less than 10 months.


	8. Remus Dreams

**Remus dreams.**

When Remus was a boy he had this one dream. It was one of those dreams that made your mind flood with disappointment when, upon waking, you realise that it was just a dream. It was one of those dreams that follows you throughout the day and then chases you into sleep again at night.

As a boy Remus dreams.

He dreams of living in a beautiful house. He dreams of living in a beautiful house with gardens that are filled with beautiful flowers and the sound of humming bees. The beautiful house and the beautiful gardens with their beautiful flowers existed in perpetual sunshine; in a world perpetually in the height of summer. One of those perfect summers that everyone in England remembers having, when they were a child. Remus, when he is older will wonder whether he dreamt all his childhood summers. A summer that was not too hot. The weather; sunny but with a slight cooling breeze. A perfectly balanced summer where chilled homemade lemonade is a delight to be savoured not a relief to be gulped down. Maybe all the adults of the world dreamt their childhood summers. But forgot their dreams. Remus will wonder this when he is older, wiser and colder.

In this perfect summer, in this perfect house there lived two parents that said 'I love you' nearly every day. And, on the days that they didn't, they instead so perfectly, showed their love for one another in each and every one of their actions that the words weren't necessary. A perfect mother. A perfect father. Bathed in perfect sunshine.

The perfect father never stared at his son with a slight frown creasing his brow. He never had to look away quickly and try to hide his frown when his son caught him staring. Instead his son only caught looks of love, fondness and affection. No stares. No frowns, instead strong arms held wide open for warm hugs.

The perfect mother never heaved hot and heavy sighs whilst cooking dinner. In fact, more often than not father could be found cooking dinner. The son, Remus would often help his father and they would laugh together.

In this perfectly dreamy house the family silver was not hidden in the attic; when Remus received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, the family celebrated by eating fish and chips off of the large dinner plates. Remus's mother giggling and smiling over what her own mother would have made of that, had she known ('God rest her soul!'). Seconds for everyone and chocolate cake for dessert.

But dreams shift. ....

In his wildest dreams Remus saw Hogwarts all the time. But in reality he never believed that his dreams could come true. Otherwise – why dream them? Outside of dreams he was awake and he had heard them, his parents, talking. Remus should have been asleep and dreaming but he wasn't, instead he was knelt at the top of the stairs, bony little boy's knees digging into the worn carpet, hands clutching at the banisters, listening to the mummers that came from behind the closed living room door. Heart beating a slightly guilty rhythm against his chest, but he had to know. He always had to know what they were saying about him. He needed to be prepared. So Remus, little boy Remus heard mutterings about silver stirring rods and cauldrons, silver plates and medicines, and the other children. Again and again his father's voice asking 'But what about the other children?' As if Remus would never be a part of them.

But then a Hogwarts letter did arrive for Remus and he wasn't dreaming. He was living in a house, subject to autumn and winter and rain. There was a garden with a patchy lawn and a lone rose bush. The humming of bees was more a mummer in the corner than a garden filling cacophony of sound. And hot angry sighs filled the kitchen and hidden stares stifled the living room.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when the letter arrived, and for dinner they had cauliflower cheese and the family silver stayed firmly in the attic. His Mother, _his Mum_ hugged him tightly with tears on her cheeks. And Father had squeezed his shoulder and said gruffly 'Well done Lad.' And then _his Dad_ ventured out of the house, on a Wednesday night and came back with a Mars Bar from the corner shop. And Remus went to bed with the taste of Muggle chocolate in his mouth still. And it was all so unreal, that Remus lay in bed, afraid to close his eyes, in case he woke up.

So dreams change and sometimes for good reasons.

At age 12 Remus dreams of a girl. A warm girl with soft arms that wrap around him. A girl with smooth cheeks that press against his, lips that kiss his and wide eyes that take in his scars, and his 'affliction' and love him for it.

And dreams change, and sometimes for pressing, personal reasons.

At age 15 Remus dreams of Sirius Black with wild hair, whispering 'Moony'. He dreams of Sirius Black doing terrible and wonderful things to him under the canopy of a Gryffindor bed. He dreams of a Sirius Black, so enthralled with Remus that he leaves Snivillous alone.

But dreams change, and sometimes for hurtful reasons.

At age 22 Remus dreams of a Sirius Black who comes to him and begs for forgiveness, or help or guidance or _something _before it all goes wrong.

It all went wrong.

So dreams change and, sometimes they also fall away to more mundane things.

At age 25 Remus hardly dreams. He thinks about warm beds, cooked food and woolly jumpers without holes.

But once a dreamer, always a dreamer. At age 32 Remus's nights begin to fill once more with dreams. At age 32 Remus dreams of black hair and pale skin, and a young skinny boy crying in a darkened room. During the day three names swirl around Remus's head. He tries not to think too hard on what connects these three names as memories mix and overlap in his mind.

A small baby boy held in his arms; dark baby hair, soft against Uncle Remus's cheek. Two young boys breathless with laughter in each others arms. Dark hair twisted in Remus's fist as he pulls, hard. A tall dark figure, always in the background; at school, at meetings and always surrounded by whispers and taunts.

Remus tries not to think too hard on why his mind might connect Harry with Sirius and Snape. Harry can't be the boy in his dreams. Remus doesn't even know what Harry looks like now, if he really looks like James or if he actually looks like someone else's son.

At age 33 Remus sees Severus Snape and the dreams stopped. But images flicker through his mind during the day, blurring with reality. Snape as a boy. Snape as a man. Severus in his arms, twisting away. Severus's hair in his hands, twisted around his fingertips. Outside of dreams Remus finds Harry, gets back an old friend, loses his job, loses his friend, and amidst it all doesn't lose his mind. But then Severus is here grabbing Remus's hair, gripping too tight, threatening to pull it out at the roots. Remus is snarling, and snapping at Severus. And Severus snaps back, teeth clicking. 8 years of blurred reality until.

Now.

Remus stifles a sob and Severus lets go of his hair, the sudden loss sending Remus tumbling to the ground. Wincing as his knees hit the cold stone of the hallway.

'Fucking animal!' Whispers Severus with venom. And Remus tastes copper in his mouth. He teases the cut in his lip with his tongue, and wishes he could bite Severus's lips and mesh them with his own lips. He wishes he could taste his own blood and Severus's blood in his mouth, taste them mixed together. He stares blearily up at Severus, his scalp smarting from the abuse it's suffered. Then Severus reaches out and Remus flinches as a cold hand cups his chin. Then there's a callused thumb rubbing, a little too hard over the cut in his lip. 'Good Dog.' Whispers Snape. Remus hisses and the hand is gone.

Severus is stepping back and just for a moment Remus sees a flash of wide eyes, and shaking hands wiped hastily against black robes before withdrawing into dark sleeves. He sees something like fear or even terror flashing in those eyes, and then Severus is gone. A door slams shut, echoing in the broken silence.

Remus groans and leans forward till his forehead is resting on the floor. He lets the cold seep into his him. And then allows each ache and pain of his body to remind him slowly of each of his 41 years. From his knees to his hair. And he knows that he's going to start dreaming again. But this time his dreams will filter and expand on reality. And he's got to let them spur him on. He needs to see that look again. He needs to hear the whispered insults and the harsh approval. He needs to feel cruel fingers and bloody lips.

Remus needs to think.

He's not at tall embarrassed when Albus finds him in the same position 15 minutes later. Not at tall.

'Ah Remus.' Says Albus, as if he's encountered Remus in the library reading a Jane Austen book rather than prostrating himself on the second floor's main corridor.

'Albus.' Remus says, voice muffled by the floor. He grins to himself, blood from his lips dripping onto the floor below. He wonders whether it'll stain the stone and perhaps become tangible proof of these events.

Remus thinks.

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_This is a bit of a weird one (again). I'm not sure whether it works or not, and how it fits into the flow of things._

_This has taken absolutely aaaages to write. I spent so much time editing, cutting, rewriting, cutting out and putting bits back in, restructuring blah blah blah! That I decided to just go ahead and post it. All comments welcome - especially any comments about how it flows and whether it makes sense. I'll probably edit it again in the future. Zx_


	9. Severus the Barman

**Severus the Barman**

'I was a barman.'

'Oh really. You were a barman?'

'Yes. A barman. For a whole summer.'

'You were a barman for a whole summer?'

'Yes a whole summer. I was 16, left home to make it on my own. Stayed in a flat all on my own.'

'A flat eh?'

'Yes a flat. A flat all of my own, with yellow curtains and rugs and mats and...and a bed!'

'A bed?'

'Stop asking him fucking questions!' Snapped Sirius.

Sirius was leant up against the closed bedroom door, arms crossed, sulky expression on his face.

Remus flung him a dirty look. 'I'm not asking him questions. 'He whispered through gritted teeth.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Alright, stop phrasing your sentences as questions.' He smirked and watched on as Remus continued to wrestle with the uncooperative, flailing figure of Severus Snape, on the room's small bed.

Remus had managed to divest Severus of his cloak, which now lay strewn on the floor along with Severus's boots, one black sock and a single button from the left cuff of Remus's shirt. To be honest Severus wasn't putting up a huge fight but he was quite wriggly. And he kept trying to tell Remus things, in this really earnest voice that Remus just couldn't ignore.

Bright, ridiculously wide eyes gazed up at Remus and they seemed to implore him to take in the truth of the babbled words. Severus wasn't a barman, was never a barman, Remus reasoned to himself. He didn't spend a whole summer working behind the bar in the Leaky Cauldron. There's no way that one would have escaped the Hogwarts gossip radar. He would have had to have been 17, at least and Hogwarts students were in and out of the pub all the time. Remus remembers sitting in a booth with Sirius sipping at firewhisky, because they could, trying not to gag on the harsh taste as it burnt down their throats. Sirius got tipsy, Remus remembers, but he didn't. Werewolf metabolism Sirius suggested. But Remus liked to think it was just his metabolism, but he never became a big drinker, he never tested that theory.

Severus now had one hand twisted in Remus's cardigan and the fingers of his other hand had somehow hooked and stuck themselves in Remus's right shirt cuff, his only remaining in-tact shirt cuff.

'Sirius.' Remus growled out. And he mentally thought to himself, 'Please just help. For once in your life just help.' And suddenly Sirius's shoulder bumped up against Remus's and another pair of hands were untangling Severus from Remus's clothing.

Remus took a step back as Sirius firmly pushed against Severus's shoulders, and watched as he leant over Severus and pressed him back against the mattress.

'Lie back Severus. On your back. Don't talk. Don't speak. You don't need to talk anymore. It's finished.' Sirius spoke in hushed soft tones. Severus's eyes rolled around the room, finding Remus but then sliding away again. His hips bucked off the bed slightly, his legs tangled in the ratty blue-striped blanket which had slipped down from where Remus had valiantly, earlier tried to cover him with it. Severus eyes rolled to the ceiling, sweeping past Sirius, the window and then once more finding Remus. This time there was a spark of recognition. 'Remus' hissed Severus, reaching out his arms, and his efforts to leave the bed increased.

But Sirius pushed down harder and moved to block Remus from Severus's gaze.

'Come on you slimy old bustard. Lie the fuck down, keep your fucking arms to yourself. And go the fuck to sleep.' Sirius voice continued in a singsong pattern, belying the vitriol of his words.

Remus suddenly had a burst of memory. James cooing to a wailing Harry.

'Please shut the hell up Harry. Your mother is bloody tired, and she'd like some fucking sleep tonight. And your Daddy wants to have fun with his friends. Don't mess it up for your Dad. Go to sleep you little bugger, go to sleep...you little bugger.'

Of course Lily had walked in as James was on the third verse of his improvised 'Go to Sleep You Little Bugger' lullaby.

Severus's movements had slowed, and Remus couldn't see his face but he imagined that Severus's eyes were locked on Sirius's.

'Veritaserum overdose.' Said Sirius, looking back over his shoulder to Remus. He cocked an eyebrow, and Remus felt that old lurch in his stomach. An old ember of desire. 'Surely you recognise a Veritaserum overdose when you see one?'

Remus stared at Sirius for a beat. 'Of course I don't fuckin' recognise a Veritaserum overdose.' He angrily whispered.

Sirius dislodged one of Snape's hands from his shirt, placing it almost tenderly across Severus's chest.

'No more touching now Snape. No more moving. Close your eyes and go to sleep.'

Severus's eyes screwed shut, only to flick open again. 'Shut your eyes.' Sirius said. His voice soft but containing a slight edge to.

He moved a few steps back from the bed, 'Good Snape.' He said softly. ' That's good. Well done. It's all finished now.'

He turned away from the bed and Remus had to suppress a snort at the absolutely stricken expression on Sirius face. Sirius turned back to look at the bed and they watched Severus together. Watched the change in Severus's chest movements as h is breathing deepened and slowed. They could see Severus's eyeballs flicking about under his eyelids. Which Remus thought meant he's still awake, and then remembered that it meant that he's dreaming. And then that maybe you don't dream when drugged. Remus then realised he didn't know what flickering eyeballs signify. And instead chose to breathe a sigh of relief as Severus's hand slid off his chest, flopping bonelessly onto the bed and as his head slowly tilted to one side.

He heard Sirius take in a deep breath. 'You don't want to know why I know what a Veritaserum overdose looks like.'

Remus didn't say anything, he didn't think he could take another emotional conversation, especially not with Sirius.

'He would have just kept going. His internal monologue has no censorship.' Sirius said blandly.

'But he didn't say anything that was true...' Remus murmured. 'Did he?'

'There's a reason Snape is Dumbledore's top spy.' Sirius replied, a wry smile tipping up one side of his face.

'His brain is short-circuiting and going through all the information he can say, all the half truths and half lies he's built up to protect himself.' Sirius moved across the room to join Remus.

'If we hadn't stopped him, he'd probably be waxing lyrical about muggle bashing or murdering babies by now.'

'Sirius!' Hissed Remus.

'I'm saying, if he's saying it it's not true aren't I?' Said Sirius nudging Remus with a shoulder.

'I believe what you are actually implying is that those would be half truths or half lies.' Remus replied dryly.

'Maybe he only thought about bashing a muggle. Maybe he only read about murdering a baby.'

Severus shifted on the bed and they both left the room.

Later, they drink tea and eat slices of crumbly rich fruit cake. The cake is covered in marzipan and icing, and Remus finds it strange to be reminded of Christmas so late in February. Sirius seems unperturbed and is already devouring a second slice, licking sticky marzipan and the apricot glaze that holds it to the fruit cake off of his fingers. Long tongue lapping at his finger tips. Remus can almost hear him panting, and wants to be disgusted.

Remus is picking half a cherry from the remains of his cake, pedantically flicking pieces of current and brown cake mix from its surface with one finger nail, when he realises Sirius is staring at him.

'What?' he says.

'Moony.' Singsongs Sirius. 'Always thinking. What are you thinking about?'

'Half truths and half lies.' Admits Remus.

'Snape.' Grumbles Sirius. 'Should've guessed.' He props an elbow on the table and leans his chin onto his cupped head.

Remus's brow creases. 'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'It means.' Sirius says around a mouthful of cake. 'That you've become obsessed with Professor Snape.'

'I have not.' Retorts Remus.

Sirius shrugs and flashes a wolfish grin at Remus. 'Of course not Moony.'

Remus holds his gaze for a moment. And then.

'You've got half a sultana stuck to your chin.'

Sirius barks out a laugh. Before leaning across the table at Remus with a leer plastered across his face, 'Wanna lick it off Rem?'

Remus snorts out a laugh, and like that they're both giggling and then shaking with laughter. It feels good.

'There's a time you'd have said yes to that.' Sirius says.

'There's a time when you wouldn't have had to ask.' Says Remus.

'There's a time when you would have done anything for me.' And the conversation has slipped into something Remus is not quite sure of.

'I'd still do anything for you.' He replies softly. ' 'Cept lick half eaten sultanas off your beard.'

Sirius sniggers, and plucks the sultana off his cheek before plopping it in his mouth.

Remus gets up to make more tea, he rests a hand on Sirius' shoulder as he passes, and smiles as he feels Sirius reach up to pat it. And suddenly everything feels like it's moving towards something normal, towards something settled. Remus is flicking the gas on under the old metal kettle, the cooker clicking again and again before the spark catches, when there's a loud crash from somewhere in the house. Remus spins around fumbling for his wand, whilst Sirius stands up abruptly, and as he pushes back from the kitchen table his chair clatters to the floor.

Remus's wand has got, ridiculously caught in the sleeve of his cardigan. 'Oh for fucks sake!' he snarls under his breath, as he finally manages to wrestle it free. He looks up just as the kitchen door creaks open. And then there's a soft 'Snape?' from Sirius.

He takes a sharp breath. Sirius is standing wand held out and one hand out stretched. Remus looks past him to the doorway.

Snape, Severus is standing there in the doorway. Remus lets out a shaky breath and lowers his wand. Sirius has done the same. They both stare dumbly at Snape for a moment. Then Remus becomes suddenly aware that Severus is crying. Remus starts towards him, but he's held back as Sirius thrusts out one arm blocking Remus's path. 'Don't.' He says sharply to Remus.

'Hello Snape.' He looks to Snape, face sharp. 'Answer me.'

'Hello Sirius.' Is the quiet reply. And Remus feels Sirius flinch at hearing his first name.

'What just happened? Did you cause that noise?'

'Yes.' Snape voice sounds ragged.

'How?' Sirius demands, one arm still pressing against Remus's chest.

'What did you do?'

'I fell off the bed.'

'Why are you crying?'

Snape raised a hand to his cheek as if to confirm the fact.

'I don't...', he swallows. ' I don't...I think...I'm hurt.'

'Hurt? Where?'

'My...' Snape swallows and stutters. And for the first time his eyes flick from Severus to Remus.

'Sirius...' Remus says in warning. 'Sirius...'

'I'm hurt.' Seveurs says dully at first. 'I'm hurt. I'm hurt. I'm hurt.' His voice starts to take on a slightly hysterical edge with the repetitions, and he reaches out a hand towards Sirius and Remus, it's covered in dark sticky blood. 'I'm hurt.'

Sirius starts forward as Remus does the same. Sirius closes a hand around Snape's wrist as Snape repeats start to increase in volume. 'I'm hurt. I'm hurt. See! I'm hurt!'

'Quiet.' Snaps Sirius and the chant stops. Severus sways forward as Sirius examines his hand with quick precise glances.

'Your hand isn't hurt Snape. Where's the blood from?'

Snape's face takes on a panicked look, and he shakes his head from side to side in jerky movements.

'Where's this blood from?' Hisses Sirius as he shakes the bloodied hand in Snape's face. 'Where?'

Snape yanks his hand away. And still shaking his head he reaches behind to the seat of his trousers.

'I'm hurt. I'm bleeding.' He hisses back at Sirius his voice nearly whining. 'Here. Here. Here.'

His hand is outstretched again, thrust out at Sirius. And there's fresh blood coating it. Dark red in colour. And Remus knows that's not good.

And then things start to move quickly. Sirius lurches forward towards Snape, and grasps him around the wrists. Remus rushes forward to help as Sirius is tugging Snape forward towards the kitchen table.

'Sit down Snape. Sit down.' Commands Sirius pushing Snape into a chair.

Remus halts him, 'No don't make him sit down...he's bleeding there..'

'Well what then, I don't fuckin' know !' Sirius snarls back.

'We need to see where's he's bleeding from.'

'You mean look at his...'

'He's _bleeding_ Sirius.'

'No Snape don't sit on the floor.'

'Lean him on me.'

'Stay awake Snape'

'We've got to do something. He could be bleeding out.'

'You think I don't know that!'

'We need help.'

'Stay awake Snape! Stay the fuck awake!'

'Sirius!'

'Remus! Firecall Poppy'

'Oh for Merlin's sake Sirius. We're not at Hogwarts anymore she is not our only bloody medical option.'

'...'

'Whose the medical contact tonight?'

'What?'

'The order's fucking medical contact Sirius. Who is it?'

'Molly...Molly! It's Molly.'

'Help me get him in the chair, you can fire call the Weasleys.'

'Merlin. It's everywhere the blood. I don't think it's all from one place...Merlin...'

'Call Molly!'

And suddenly Severus's body went rigid in Remus arms. Remus grappled to hold him upright before Sirius is back besides him and they get him to floor before the spasms hit.

Cradling Snape's head on his lap Remus only had to look at Sirius before he was lurching away towards the fireplace.

The fit didn't last long.

Later Remus will remember the smell. Blood. Urine. Shit. A thin trickle of vomit from the corner of Snape's mouth. Thinking about whether Severus did any real damage to his wrist when it thumped against the kitchen table leg. The feel of Severus's lank hair beneath his fingers. Sirius's wide gaze. The flair of the fire. Arthur's not Molly's soft voice. And then the quick commands, orders, which he can't remember the content of but he can remember the tone.

Remus had eventually found himself sat back on his haunches watching with a strange detachment as Arthur efficiently rolled Severus onto his side.

'Did he have a fit?' was Arthur's first question, and, after Sirius's affirmation 'How long did it last?'

'Longer than 5 minutes?' Arthur asked sharply after blank looks from Sirius and Remus.

'No. No. 2 maybe 3 minutes.' Stuttered Sirius.

'Good. He'll come around in a bit.'

'He's bleeding.' Whispered Remus. 'Before he collapsed . Blood on his hands and on his trousers.'

'Ok..ok.' Says Arthur calmly, though his eyes looked panicked. 'Let's take a look before he wakes up.'

Remus couldn't look as Arthur and Sirius, of all people rolled Severus onto his side. There's the rustling of cloth and the sound of a belt buckle being undone, and then 'It's alright for now. He's not bleeding anymore. This can be fixed.' Says Arthur, the relief evident in his voice.

When Remus had looked back, Snape's trousers were back in place but his belt was undone, hanging loosely around his waist and the smell of blood and shit is worse. Remus swallowed. Arthur efficiently rolled up Snape's sleeves and Sirius had glanced up at Remus his eyes wide and unguarded for a moment when they saw Snape's forearms; angry red marks had littered them both. 'Blood –but nothing recent.' Muttered Arthur.

Then a low, pained moan came from Snape and his eyelids started to flicker.

Arthur leant over and placed a hand on the centre of Snape's chest.

'Severus – it's Arthur.' Severus groaned again, a low protracted sound and Arthur glanced at Sirius and Remus and then at the door and Sirius was already on his feet as he grabbed Remus and hauled him to his feet. One hand on the neck of his cardigan the other awkwardly under one armpit, he shuffled them both to the door – Remus glanced back as they stumbled into the hall, Arthur is bent low over Snape speaking softly and then the door clicks shut.

They trade wide eyes for a moment.

'What the fuck was that?'

Remus wordlessly shook his head, he tugged restlessly at his cardigan till Sirius let go with a muttered 'sorry' and stumbled back to sit on the stairs that led up to the first floor. Sirius sank to the floor and lent so his back and shoulders lent uneasily against the bottom two stairs. He tilted his head back slightly so it rested against one of Remus's feet and together they waited.

'What's the truth in those words?'

'Moony?'

'Was Severus a barman?'

_This took even longer than the last one! zx_


End file.
